After Wars
by nightshadow28
Summary: The war is finally over, but the ones left behind will have to learn to live on. Attempt to live like nothing had changed was not an option, but that doesn't mean they won't try. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys will struggle to build their future on the ghosts left by the war, and Teddy might just remind them why it is worth struggling for. /Irregular updates.
1. Arbitrary Delivery

_**Edited Dec 2015**_

 _ **After Wars.**_

Harry woke with a start. By looking at the window he concluded he only slept two hours at most. The other beds in the dormitory were all occupied except for Ron's — he ought to be mourning with his family somewhere nearby. With a sigh he gave up his attempt to a restless sleep and rolled out of bed. The way down to the Great Hall never before had seemed so gloomy and hollow; even the portraits were unusually quiet (and dare he say, solemn?). Not only was it sad, but it gave the same impression of spooky anticipation the Shrieking Shack would.

Once he stood before the doors of the Great Hall, his feet refused to step inside. The cries of battle, the taunts and the horrified screams still rang in his ears. He wasn't ready to confront those memories so soon —one part of him doubted he'd ever be.

He turned around to hurry through the entrance gates. He found what was left of the night tranquil and with a nice, humid breeze, as though it wasn't aware of the recent tragedy, as if it didn't care. How could something so life-shattering mean nothing in eyes of eternity?

A call of "Harry! Harry Potter!" interrupted his pace. Harry's first impression was that it was Bellatrix's ghost coming for revenge, but as the figure drew closer, he distinguished the small differences that made her Andromeda Tonks. She had a bag over her shoulder and a bundle of blankets in her arms — Teddy, he realized with a pang of sorrow in his chest. Reality hit him with the strength a full steam locomotive; Teddy'd be just like him, an orphan.

"Mrs. Tonks?" croaked out Harry.

"Where are Nymphadora and Remus? Someone told me the war is over but they wouldn't say where Nymphadora is." Harry sensed she was frenetic, but she was doing a good job at hiding it.

He gulped.

"Mrs. Tonks…they…" — how was he supposed to tell her that her daughter died without hurting her too much? — "they fought bravely and they…"

Mrs. Tonks began shaking her head to the sides.

"No," she said (or maybe pleaded).

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tonks."

She shook her head more vigorously, as though avoiding the words to register. Suddenly, almost leaping, she shoved Teddy into Harry's unexpecting arms, threw the nappy bag to his feet and ran to the castle.

Harry froze. He had never held a baby before. Somehow it was scarier that it was Remus' son — his godson. He slowed his breathing and went as stiff as possible. Teddy was so small and light, it seemed like any sudden movement could break him. And Harry wouldn't be the one to break him.

It was a while later that Teddy stirred. He opened his eyes, a bit unfocused. The brown irises turned to blue as they landed on Harry.

"ummh…hello?" said Harry, uncertain.

Teddy squirmed and pulled a face. Harry didn't know if he was cold, stretching or just didn't like him.

Teddy began whining, still he wiggled. Harry hunched down careful and steady.

"Please, don't cry, Teddy," he hushed, reaching one trembling hand to the nappy bag. "Are you hungry? Let me find your bottle, ok?"

It turned out rummaging through a bag one-handed while balancing his weight not to upset a baby in his other arm was much harder than he expected. When Teddy was about to truly cry, Harry got hold of a full bottle and popped it into the baby's mouth, who resisted for a few seconds before sucking greedily.

Harry bowed his head with a sigh of relief. The immediate crisis was taken care of; however, he didn't want to push his luck, so he took — with considerable effort — the bag, swung it over his shoulder and walked to the castle. The brief journey took much longer than usual due to the several stops made whenever Teddy squirmed in the sightless.

Luckily, the doors were opened. The immense room would have been empty hadn't it been for the lifeless bodies left by the former day's battle, and a wailing Mrs. Tonks.

Harry hesitated before he stepped closer.

"Mrs. Tonks?" he called.

She didn't seem to hear anything, kneeled next to her daughter. She wiped her eyes, stood and sent Harry an icy and distant glare. It was disturbing to say the least.

"When will be the funeral?" she said, coldly.

Harry blinked, trying to process her reaction.

"I-…I don't know. Maybe McGon-"

"Send me an owl when you know."

With that she turned around and elegantly headed for the doors.

"Mrs. Tonks! Wait!" Harry followed as fast as he dared with Teddy in his arms. "You forgot Teddy!"

Mrs. Tonks stopped to look over her shoulder.

"You're his Godfather, aren't you? Take care of him yourself," she stated.

Harry was stunned; Teddy still sucked on his bottle.

Mrs. Tonks left without looking back. Harry made to follow her, but by the time he got out of the Hall, she was already gone. He couldn't begin to shake off the numbness of the shock. Surely Mrs. Tonks would be back any minute. She wouldn't leave her grandchild — practically her last family member — with a seventeen year old who knew near to nothing on babies, now, would she?

Minutes passed by; Teddy still drank and to Harry it became obvious Mrs. Tonks wasn't coming back that day. Perhaps she only needed time to sort her feelings. Hopefully.

Still, even if it was only for a day, she had abandoned — and rejected— Teddy… Just like the Dursleys had done with him all his life, simply for existing.

A chilly breeze set inside his chest. No one should have to grow up like that, resented and, therefore, lonely.

Subconsciously, he tightened his hold on Teddy, who had just finished his breakfast. Suddenly taking care of a two-week old baby didn't seem so bad.

That is until said baby got fussy and whinny. Harry's panic came back tenfold, now that he wouldn't be able to shelter in the knowledge that it was only for a few minutes, not a lifetime.

"Don't cry, Teddy. Come on, it'll be fine, you'll see," he soothed.

He deeply wished Mrs. Weasly or Hemione or even Madam Pomfry to rescue him. But just like all those times he wished to be rescued from the Dursleys, he painfully realised he was alone in this. He'd need to rescue himself once again.

It was obvious he'd have to care for Teddy on his own — it was implied in the whole Godfather thing. Though, in his mind he had considered there would always be someone to help. Now, gently (and rather shakily) rocking his crying godson back and forth, with no idea of what was wrong, it downed on him just how difficult it would be.

Slowly, he shifted his hold on Teddy, placing him a bit higher, near his heart.

Surprisingly something did happen. Teddy's wails quietened down. Harry was about to thank his lucky stars when Teddy's brief silence turned to gurgles and, then, slightly thicker milk poured out of his mouth.

"Eww! Oh, Teddy."

Teddy's eyes welled up in tears and his lips quivered before resuming his loud wailing.

"No, no, Teddy, don't cry."

Harry kept rocking him as he walked.

It felt like hours, but Teddy finally calmed down. He stared unsure up at his Godfather with purple round eyes.

"That's right, mate. See? No need to cry," said Harry. "Let's clean that stuff off you, mmh?" He reached the bag's zipper, but stopped abruptly. Having a baby near the Great Hall at its current state and contents wasn't a good idea. It wasn't probable Teddy'd remember that day, let alone seeing his parents in such a state, but Harry didn't want to take any chances. After all, didn't he, himself, recall that Halloween night sixteen years ago?

"Let's find a place to clean you up."

They went to the second floor. Harry reasoned they could still be attacked, so the second floor would allow them more time and options to escape.

The way upstairs was tricky, ascending with both arms busy and pieces of walls and roofs covering the steps.

Thankfully the boys' loo had been nearly spared of hexes.

Harry put Teddy in a sink, supporting his head and shoulders with one arm whilst he looked for paper in the bag with the other. He found a thin wooden box with wipes. They were cold and humid, so Harry expected Teddy to cry again, but apparently it was actually refreshing as Teddy cooed and leaned into the touch.

"Feels nice, eh?"

Teddy's face was now clean, but his jumpsuit was still a mess and smelled funny (not good funny, though). That brought another problem. How was one supposed to dress a baby?

As far as he could tell, there were two buttons in his… nappy area and another two in the back. The thing was Teddy looked so fragile, Harry was tempted to leave him in those clothes until he found someone who knew exactly what to do. But then everyone would question his aptitude to care for a baby and then, where would Teddy end up?

He took a couple of deep breaths to gather his wits and proceeded to unbutton the lower part. Teddy observed him in awe. Somehow it made him feel better; encouraged, even.

"That's right Teddy, I'm not hopeless at this, after all," said Harry, carefully pulling off the jumpsuit.

Teddy seemed to look for something in his Godfather's face. He probably found it for he offered him a gummy smile.

Something warm blossomed around Harry's heart. It was a mixture of pride and light-headedness. With a sense of something akin to happiness, he put the bag on the nearest sink and took out the first clothes he saw.

"What do you think? You like these?" he said, holding up a grey and blue wool trousers.

Teddy cooed.

"I'll take that as a yes."

When they left the loo, the sun was coming out from behind the forest. Harry had been up for quite some time and was starting to feel his gut calling out for breakfast. There was only one place he knew might be open in the current circumstances.

Before taking off, however, he pulled out his wand and chanted, "Expecto Patronum." A glowing stag formed in front of them awaiting directions.

"I'll be at the Hog's Head," he said and concentrated on Hermione. He hadn't been away from Ron and Hermione in months, so he was a bit anxious to go alone, but, at the same time, he didn't think he could bring himself to explain about Teddy just yet.

"Wanna meet Hogsmead, Teddy?"

#

Aberforth quickly served coffee, eggs and toast for Harry and himself, and warm milk for Teddy.

"I'm too used to rise at dawn. Might as well do something useful," he had said.

"What're you planning to do with a baby?" he asked, digging in his own breakfast.

"Honestly? I've no idea."

Teddy chose that moment to become fussy.

Seeing that Harry was clueless, Aberforth offered, "Perhaps he needs a new nappy."

Harry felt his eyes widen and his face heat up.

"How am I suppoused to do that?"

Aberforth shrugged.

"Take off the nappy and put on a new one."

Harry huffed.

"Yeah, but exactly how would I go about it?" he said, slightly annoyed.

Aberforth shrugged again. "And how would I know that? I never had a child of my own."

Harry hesitantly rose to his feet and took the nappy bag.

"You can use a room upstairs," said Aberforth through a mouthful of toast.

A while later, inside the bedroom, Teddy laid on the bed wiggling his limbs, crying for all it was worth. Harry felt like both a jerk for having him crying so much in the little time he had him, and an inept at not knowing how to help him.

"Don't worry, Teddy, I'll figure it out…I hope."

He pulled off Teddy's trousers and examined the nappy, trying to discover how it worked despite Teddy's howls. Giving up, he took a new nappy, expecting it would be easier to operate. But no such luck.

Teddy's cries and his lack of sleep were getting to him, so he tore off the sides of the dirty nappy, mindful of not scratching Teddy accidentally, and was met with the most awful smell he had ever come across.

"Eww, just what was in your milk? A troll's rotten socks?"

He held his breath and pulled the nappy from underneath Teddy, leaving it aside, quickly replacing it with a clean one; he figured Aberforth wouldn't be thrilled if they left a dirty comforter. Then he wrapped some wipes around the dirty nappy, in hopes it'd diminish the smell and threw it in the rubbish bin.

Teddy still cried, but Harry was unsure what was next. He remembered peaking from behind the armchair to watch the telly at the Dursley's. Some cartoons showed women wiping and putting baby powder. He might as well give it a go. He didn't know what the baby powder was for, but at the current time, a cartoon knew more about babies than him, so who was he to question it?

After a few — around five — attempts to close up the nappy, Harry casted an "accio scotch tape" that came flying from some drawer and taped it up.

"Well, taped is taped, right?"

Somewhat calmer, he picked up a sniffing Teddy. The pitiful sight made his insides twist painfully. He definitely liked it a lot better when Teddy smiled.

He rocked him as he repeated "'s alright". Once both of them had calmed and Teddy had his trousers back on, they went to the dinner.

"How was it?" said Aberforth from behind his cuppa. Harry could clearly picture his smirk.

"Not bad," he lied, taking a spoonful of his fairly cold eggs to his mouth.

Aberforth snorted.

"Sure it was," he muttered.

They ate without another word, comforting themselves in the odd silence. Soon Teddy got hungry and finished his bottle in what must have been a record time.

"You might want to make him belch," said Aberforth, suddenly.

"eh?"

Aberforth gave an annoyed sigh. "Put him on your shoulder and pat his back until he burps."

"Why?"

Aberforth shrugged — yet again. "I've seen a few women who've come here doing it."

Harry sent him a dubious look but did as he was told, slowly and a tad clumsy. At first he was reluctant, not wanting to hurt his godson by patting him too hard, but soon enough he got the hang of it and Teddy let out a loud belch.

"Whoa, didn't know babies could do that!"

Aberforth rolled his eyes, amused.

#

Before leaving the Hog's Head, Aberforth taught Harry how to prepare Teddy's bottles and a quick charm to warm them up to the perfect temperature. Apparently tending a well-known inn and pub required knowledge of _all_ sort of drinks.

For a while Harry felt lighter and cheery; to watch Teddy fumbling with his blanket was a reminder that life went on and there were still things worth struggling for.

The castle came to view, and so did the ghosts of the war's memories. A weight that set in his stomach grounded him back down from all the hopeful lightness he had felt.

He had to face his new life. Though later on, he'd be ashamed to admit he almost turned around.

They made it to the entrance gates by mid morning. It was no longer gloomily silent, but the voices and rushing of feet were not exactly joyous, either.

Harry took a deep breath and let himself in.

Inside, everyone ran from one side to the other. No one seemed to notice him.

At that point, Charlie rushed in, looking sideways as he went. He nearly tripped himself when he made a double take on Harry. He stared for a bit, a little unnervingly. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he shouted in the general direction, "He's here!"

Immediately they were surrounded by redheads.

Harry grew uncomfortable.

Mrs. Weasley hurried to his side and took his face between her hands, reassuring herself that he was indeed there or, maybe, inspecting him.

"Thank Merlin you're alright," she said in such a grateful voice, Harry felt guilty, even if he wasn't sure what for. But just as fast her hands had flown to his face, they went to her hips, her face darkening. "And just where have you been, young man?! Do you have any idea how worried we've been?! And-"

"Mrs. Weasley, I was at the Hog's Head. I sent a patronus to Hermione before leaving."

Everyone turned to Hermione, whose blush was still noticeable through the dirt and dried blood.

"I thought it had been a dream," she said, sheepishly.

"Who's that?" Ginny asked Harry.

The Weasleys stared utterly surprised.

Harry flushed but answered, "This is Teddy."

"Remus' kid?" asked Bill. He looked worse for wear — just like everyone else — but perhaps his weariness stood up thanks to his scars.

"Yeah, Andromeda was here before dawn."

"Oh, the poor dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Where is she?"

Harry's eyes sullied.

"She left," he said cuttingly.

"And when will she be back?" said Charlie, apprehensively.

"I don't think she'll…" Harry looked away, allowing the hanging sentence speak for him.

"Oh." They all caught up with what he meant.

Mrs. Weasley looked too tired and desolated to manage to feel something else. Harry understood that her son's death took a lot out of her, but he couldn't help but be disappointed. There was no anger or sadness. She didn't even try to reach for Teddy.

She sighed exhaustedly and walked back to the Great Hall.

Everyone followed suit, except for Harry. He stood there for a while. At lost for what to do he said, "Shall we go take a nap?"

#

"Harry, wake up. Come on, wake up, we're leaving in ten minutes."

"Wha-…What's…Hermione?" said Harry, shaking off the sleepiness and looking for his glasses on the night table.

"We'll wait for you next to Hagrid's hut," said Hermione. All Harry saw of her once he put on his glasses, was the tips of her frizzy hair when she closed the door. She was usually more persistent and lively, recalled Harry, wondering if anything would ever be the same.

He rubbed his eyes and looked down to his right, where Teddy's tiny belly demarcated his peaceful breathing. There was something enthralling about someone so small and innocent having an untroubled rest and that had been entrusted him — however arbitrary it had happened. If he was honest with himself, Harry was tempted to envy Teddy's care-freeness.

Harry lifted the shield he had casted so Teddy wouldn't fall off, gathered his godson in his arms, with more confidence that time.

"Shhh," he whispered when Teddy stirred. He had no idea where that came from, but it worked; Teddy's rest was again untroubled.

With Teddy wrapped in a blanket and the nappy bag over his shoulder, Harry made his ways out the castle, perhaps for the last time; he doubted he'd ever grow the courage to face all the memories held in there.

Crossing the entrance doors, knowing he might not do it again, left an empty feeling, but in an ineffable way, it was liberating, too. Ensuring Teddy's blanket covered him well, Harry got a glimpse of a, not only good, but a better future for all of them. And that was everything he needed to bravely confront whatever life would throw their way.

* * *

 **A. N.: I've wanted to post this story for two years now, but time and circumstances weren't very kind to me. Hope you enjoy and would love if you'd review to tell me ways to improve my writing or grammar.**

 **I've got a way bigger plot stored in my mind that I'd love to actually write, but circumstances are still against me, so let's treat this as a one-shot for now. Hopefully in the near future I'll be posting another chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	2. Weasleyish Disbelief

**Chapter 2**

"WAAAAAAHH!"

"So soon?" groaned Harry. He knew if he stretched, he'd feel much better and awake, but he was so tired, so desperate to go back to sleep, that he simply rolled out of bed and dragged his feet to Teddy's crib. In reality, it wasn't exactly a crib; Harry had transfigurated a couple of Bill's old books. He didn't think Bill would overly mind since he had long moved out of the Burrow. Nonetheless, Harry kept reminding himself to change them back when he could get a real crib.

"You can't be hungry already, mate," said Harry, picking up the bottle he'd spelled to keep warm, from the night-stand. "I fed you like an hour ago."

"WAAAAAAHHH!"

"I know, I know."

Harry picked up Teddy and gently offered him the bottle. Teddy's cries quieted down to hiccups for a few moments before he got started on his late night snack.

"See? Nothing to cry about. I got your back," soothed Harry as he sat down on Bill's old bed. Upon arriving to the Burrow everyone had shut themselves in their bedrooms, except for Harry and Mr. Wesley. The later told Harry he could take Bill's room, as he and Fleur immediately flooed to Shell Cottage. Ron had too locked himself in his attic room, and Hermione had gone upstairs with Ginny. Harry and Teddy were left to figure out what to do, though, Harry couldn't blame any of the Weasleys. He himself had lost track of who was in the house, too occupated with his thoughts and Teddy.

Two months later Harry had a routine down, which included little sleep, eating with several check-on-Teddy-breaks in between, lots of silencing charms, and (after much practice) change nappies correctly - in one try!

In that time he found out a very important thing. Whenever he patted Teddy's back after eating - like Aberforth had said - his lunch would stay down, but when he didn't, it turned into a messy situation for both - specially Harry, as he had to clean up. From then on, Harry tried hard not to forget.

This time Teddy felt asleep before finishing his bottle. Harry laid him down on the crib and tip-toed back to bed, only to discover he was unable to sleep. He huffed his frustration and decided to find some midnight lunch for himself. Once in the kitchen, he settled for a mug of coffee and a piece of bread. It wasn't much, considering he had skipped supper to catch up on sleep, but he was used to have little food. And with so many changes and grief filling everything he knew, it was comforting to do something he was familiar with - regardless if that meant eating less and 'sneaking' to the kitchen at night, like he had done often at the Dursleys.

It was a plus to scape the awkwardness of the silent, mournful meals.

Harry sat, sipping his coffee for the rest of the night, even after it became cold. It seemed pointless to warm it up again.

It seemed pointless to do much those days.

How had everything been turned upside-down so quickly? How was it possible that seven years ago he didn't even think magic existed? And why did it seem more like a lifetime ago?

He recalled those times, when his only goal was to get a job to finally move out of the Dursleys'. Back then he didn't care what kind of job he'd have, he didn't even considered a higher education. Being free had been more than enough prize.

Harry snorted bitterly. Some freedom it turned out to be.

Someone crept downstairs. Harry turned to the window, realising it was morning already. He stood up, spelled the mug to the sink and went back to check on Teddy. On the way he said a quick "Mornin'" to Mr. Weasley, who was on his way to work - he, too, skipped some meals lately, namely breakfast.

* * *

Yet again, Harry skipped supper and readied to sleep before Teddy woke, demanding his own supper. His eyes were almost closing on their own accord and his feet felt heavy. Not even his back cooperated to keep him straightened up; if he'd spent one more minute without rest, Harry suspected he'd have to go to bed crawling.

His head hit the pillow when there was knock. Harry groaned, hoping Teddy still slept. He didn't stir - a good sign.

Harry got up to open the door to avoid more noise that could disturb Teddy's nap.

It was Ginny, clutching a newspaper.

They hadn't really talked, except for the morning greeting at breakfast. Harry didn't know were he stood. One year he took an interest in her; the next, they have to break it off because he had to go on the run and fight a war; and then, he had a small baby that required all of his time and energy. What the bloody hell was he supposed to say? ' _Sorry about your dead brother, let's snog over there...'_? Or _Forget about the sleeping baby over there, let's take a coffee_?

The situation was goddamn impossible. He wasn't prepared (or able) to divide his time between Teddy and a girlfriend, and Ginny wasn't done grieving or focusing on her last school year - it mustn't be easy go back to where such awful things happened.

"Hey," said Harry, unsure. His tone was low to not wake Teddy.

Ginny's expression promised ugly consequences - for what? He wasn't sure.

"What. Is. This.?" she askded through gritted teeth, throwing him the newspaper.

Harry was puzzled. The only time he had gone out of the Burrow since Hogwart's Battle was to go to Remus and Nymphadora's funeral. Surely the press couldn't make anything up out of a two months old event.

 **The Chosen One's Fleeting Loves**

 _It is widely known that Harry Potter went in the search of means to defeat the One-That-Must-Not-Be-Named from late 1997 throughout the midst of 1998. However, some may not have imagined that the famous boy - or man, more like it - had certain 'love encounters' during this time._

 _Some brave and beautiful women (for we must appreciate Mr. Potter's taste) have approached us in hopes to get the truth out, reachable for our beloved readers._

Blah, Blah, Blah.

 _"Oh, yes, he took me to this fancy restaurant to drink champagne, you know, to celebrate his soon-to-be successful battle," affirmed Miss Barrow. Her eyes shined with the memory of the magical night. "After that he took my hands and we swore eternal love."_

Blah, Blah, Blah.

 _... Love ring..._

 _...Wine and candles..._

 _...savage night, if you know what I'm talking about..._

 _...Miss Marygold..._

 _...Miss Wu..._

 _...Miss Smith..._

 _..."We've been meeting at nights so we don't get caught"..._

Harry stopped reading in a dazzle. Where had they gotten so many attention-seeking women? He had been on the run for nearly a year in a smelly tent with Ron and Hermione? They had hardly spoke to another human being, let alone have _love encounters._

Ginny looked pissed.

"You can't believe this, right?" he said, carefully.

Ginny blinked harshly and made a face that meant "I'm going into full I'm-gonna-rant-until-you-feel-guilty mode", but Harry was too exhausted to take it seriously.

"Well, I don't know, just like I don't know exactly where you lot have been all last year! I worried all that time that you'd meet someone else, but it seems like I should have worried about how many girls you'd be with! I can't believe you'd-"

"You seriously believe that load of lies?! We were running for our lives, hunting things to destroy Voldemort for good. We certainly didn't stop to picnic with girls!" Harry shot back.

"Yeah, right, and why won't you tell me exactly what went on in those months?! Why do you lot get all strange when someone asks about it?!"

Ginny went on and on, but Harry stopped listening to her when he heard a whine from Teddy. He hadn't woken up, but he was close if they didn't shut up.

"Ginny, can we talk later? You're going to wake Teddy," he said, in what he hoped was a calmed tone.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's because of Teddy," she said sarcastically, not lowering her voice, "Don't you mean to meet with your 'eternal loves'?"

Harry regretted what he said next before he even uttered a single word, but he didn't care. He was tired, frustrated, hurting and hadn't spoke with another person in weeks.

"Oh, yes, Ginny," he started, sarcastically, "we go out every night in the two minutes between Teddy's bath and his supper, we hold hands when I try to catch a few minutes to take a shower, and we even snog while I change Teddy's nappies."

"I can't believe you-!"

"WAAAAAHHHHH!"

Harry bowed his head and exhaled, tiredly.

He met Ginny's enraged stare, "Thanks a lot, Ginny." He turned to tend to Teddy.

"If you walk into that room, we're finished, you hear?" said Ginny.

Harry sighed, but didn't turn around, observing Teddy bawl and agitate his tiny fists in the air.

"It was nice while it lasted," he grounded out and closed the door.

* * *

At long last, Teddy went back to sleep, unlike Harry, whom sleep eluded once more. This time his mind insisted on replaying his fight with Ginny. He was ashamed of his reaction, but he refused to apologize for something that he hadn't done, just because she decided to believe the papers.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Harry hurried to answer the door, not wishing for Teddy to wake up again.

He opened, willing his visit not to be Ginny.

BAM!

A fist went straight to his right eye.

"Ouch!"

He got a glimpse of Bill in the threshold, looking thunderous.

"What was that for?!" demanded Harry, with a hand on his bad eye. It was going to leave a bruise for sure.

"You know for what," growled Bill.

"Do you really believe that rubbish, too?!" said Harry, still holding a hand on his eye.

Bill turned to leave, saying, "I don't want to catch you over here when I get back!"

Harry got back inside the bedroom, trying to make sense of the last couple hours. Teddy was up, but he was silent, probably too frightened to make any sort of noise. Harry cradled him, ignoring his pain.

"Don't worry, mate, it was nothing."

Harry rocked his arms, unsure of what would happen next. Not all the Weasleys could believe that paper, specially after their history with Voldermort's rebirth, or so he hoped. He had never fathom the possibility of losing the friendship of the Weasleys, they were like his family, after all.

When Teddy was calmed enough, Harry put him down and trod to the kitchen for some ice. He stopped short in the living room; he heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's voices.

"-but we can't leave them on their own!" said Mrs. Weasley, sorrowfully.

"I know, dear, but you heard Ginny, if they don't go, she will," said Mr. Weasley. "We can't put other people above our own family. Blood is thicker than water, after all." He sounded like he was convincing himself.

Harry froze.

He hadn't realized it before, but he had fooled himself into believing he was, somehow, part of the family. He had thought they were there for him unconditionally. What a fool! He suddenly felt very awake. Of course they weren't his family, he was just a friend or an acquaintance, nothing else. It was painful to accept, but he had no one unconditionally. And, apparently, the condition to be with the Weasleys was to be agreeable with them. He wondered what'd Ron think, as he had been with him on the run (he'd know the paper lied), but he often left his temper cloud his logic. But then again, the Burrow belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and if they wanted Harry to leave, then so be it.

Mrs. Weasley began sobbing and Harry decided the ice could wait. He went back to Bill's old bedroom to pack. All of his things fitted in his backpack, and Teddy only had what was in his nappy bag. Harry turned the crib back into books and waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to go to sleep.

Three hours later the night found Harry carrying Teddy across the quiet town of Ottery St. Catchpole. A bag filled with ice was pressed against his right eye with his free hand.

Harry didn't look back. He couldn't afford second-thoughts at that point.

The last thing the Weasleys would see of him would be a note they'd find on his bed, saying:

 _Thanks for everything. Sorry I overstayed my welcome_.

* * *

 **Whoa! Can you believe I finished this chapter in three rushed hours?**

 **Anyhow, I read your reviews and got inspired to push myself to get done another chapter.**

 **It's short, but it feels like it told what it had to say.**


	3. Search for a Home

**Chapter 3**

"What' you plannin' to do?" said Aberforth, cleaning the Inn's tables with an old rag. It was a good thing, too, as the place seriously needed it after a night of drunkards toasting and spilling their drinks.

Harry had no idea how to answer. But he couldn't tell that to Aberforth; he ought to have some sort of plan after two months of being in charge of a baby, after all - he didn't want to look any more pathetic than he was at the moment. But it was harder than he thought.

"I suppose I'll get a job and find someone to watch Teddy..." Harry didn't care enough to finish the sentence.

Aberforth snorted.

"A job? 'round here?" Aberforth openly laughed.

Harry couldn't believe he thought so little of his abilities. Besides, it wasn't like he was being picky - or could afford to be. He'd conform himself with a sweeping job if it came down to it.

"Oh, yeah? And why wouldn't somebody hire me? I can do all the stuff you do around here with or without magic," defended Harry, as loud as he dared with Teddy asleep in his arms.

"With your celebrity status?" - Aberforth made a disbelieving sound - "No one will risk to be publicly known as the 'enslaver' of the Chosen One."

He had a point. He hadn't remember he was well known in the magical world. Nonetheless, he should try - it wasn't like he had a choice.

"Save yourself the trouble. Don' you 'ave a pile of gold in some vault?" asked Aberforth offhandedly.

Harry winced. He _had_ one. Technically he still had it, but he wasn't granted access to it, for what seemed like forever.

That very same day, Harry had gone to Gringotts first thing in the morning. He figured he'd need more than the spare coins in his pocket to get back on his feet. The welcome he had received, however, made him rethink the viability of feeding a three month old baby with five or six galleons. As soon as he set foot in the bank, twenty goblins were pointing glowing spears at him - he didn't want to imagine what the glowing meant or did. Unmoving, Harry saw a goblin all dress in golden colours, approach him - leaving the spears between them, of course.

"Mr. Harry Potter. We were hoping you'd come to us the easy way," drawled the goblin, though Harry guessed they actually wanted to get him the hard way. "You see, neither you or your two miscreant friends are welcome here. For the havoc you created and the crime of breaking the sacred goblin law, your accounts will remain frozen for the next five years, starting today. Only then, you'll be able to get your possessions out of your vaults - if you own any. After that, you'll be forbade to step on Gringotts. I hope we're clear, Mr. Potter, for we will not be so forgiving next time."

The goblin in golden turned to leave. Harry couldn't help himself; he knew he had been lucky to get out alive, but the words poured out without his permission.

"Wait! Ron and Hermione don't have anything to do with this!" he called out.

The goblin turned with a raised eyebrow (if that was indeed his eyebrow).

"I do not believe you understand the gravity of your situation, Mr. Potter," he said,"We're not killing you nor sentencing you to long term torture only because your government made a trade with us. I advise you to walk away before we-"

"They didn't know what they were doing!" blurted out Harry without thinking. "You detected the use of unforgivables, right?" - the goblin looked at him with interest - "Well, I used Imperius on them. They didn't have control over their actions!"

The goblin seemed to reconsider.

"Very well," he said, "They're welcome here any time, under heavy vigilance. You better not be here again until-"

"Five years, got it," interrupted Harry, grateful for the outcome. Even if he hadn't really used the Imperius on them, it still wasn't their fault to be there.

The goblin, however, sent him a creepy smirk, showing his shark-like teeth.

"No, Mr. Potter. Upon recent information, we don't expect you back in fifteen years from now. That would be July 8th of 2013. Good day."

Harry remained dumbfounded for while, sinking into his new reality. Afterwards, he went to Aberforth's, seeking a room to plan out his next move.

Harry shook himself out of it and answered Abertforth. "Why does everyone think that fame always means fortune, too?"

Aberforth shrugged.

"Maybe they can't imagine their hero staying in a run-down pub, who knows," he said, enchanting the broom to do its job (its cleaning job).

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Where would you have me look for a job, then?" he said.

"Don' know. Perhaps the muggle world. I heard they no longer have to cook thanks to their food's in-or-out or whatever it is."

"Helpful," muttered Harry, unimpressed.

* * *

"I understand I'm young and inexperienced, but I am a fast learner and I love what you do in this place, and would be honoured to be part of it."

That was Harry's most used phrase for the best of the following two weeks. None of the interviews went well. The muggles were rather picky when hiring. They mostly wanted someone over twenty years old, experienced, with a high school degree (at least), and no dependants. Not exactly a profile Harry quite qualified for - even in the magical world he held no school diploma. Harry figured that was Voldemort's way to screw up his life from beyond the grave - that is if the Ministry had granted him a grave.

Yet, Harry had a bigger problem. He was running out of money.

A daily room, a nanny, meals and baby supplies costed more than he expected. As it was, he could no longer afford a room.

Tired, Harry packed all their things, picked up Teddy and left the pub, exactly a minute after it was due. On the way he cast a concealment charm on Teddy - he couldn't control his metamorphic abilities any more than he could keep his head up for a whole minute.

They ended up wandering in muggle London until midnight. Teddy was blissfully unaware of their hopeless situation, keeping up his schedule of waking up at 11 p.m., 1 a.m., 4 a.m. and 7 a.m.. Normally, Harry wondered when he'd be allowed to get a full-night's sleep again, but that night, he was thankful for something to keep him busy.

It was nearing the time to change Teddy's nappy, and he needed to sit down to think.

From afar he saw a 24/7 junk food restaurant, probably the ones Dudley constantly boasted about. It was good Aberforth exchanged him a galleon for pounds (apparently some muggleborns were too set on their ways, money wise). It wasn't a lot, specially since he had spent over half of it in the bus on his job quest. Still, it should buy him something warm.

He entered the restaurant and headed straight for the loo, not really caring about it being rude or impolite. Changing Teddy, he thought the place was oddly full for the wee hours of the morning, even if the crowd was conformed by lone men and a few parents with small children.

Teddy gurgled up at him.

"I know, first time you don't have to scream to get me up at this hours," said Harry. "I guess it's something we'll be getting used to."

He taped up the nappy, not putting much thought on it. Practising six times a day had turned him into an expert. Sure, his sense of smell would never recover, although, at those moments that was more like an advantage.

They went back to the dinning, and to the order area. Harry pretended to examine the hanging menu. Hoping to act casual, he faked confusion and directed his gaze to the cashier.

"What do I need to buy to stay the night?" he asked quietly.

"A coffee every three hours," said the cashier in a bored tone. "Which size do you want?"

"Small."

Harry, then, sat at the most comfortable looking booth available. He sipped his coffee once, and rocked Teddy to sleep.

"Don't worry, Teddy. I'll get us out of this one," he whispered. Gazing skyward, he said, "I'm so sorry, Remus. I failed you."

"You won't get anywhere feeling sorry for yourself, kid."

Harry quickly looked back down. A black man in a long, mended coat and a grey scarf stood next to him. The man pointed to the seat across Harry and raised his eyebrows, asking for permission.

Harry nodded, hesitant.

The man sat.

"Listen, I couldn't help but hearing about your roomming issue, and I thought it was a pity for someone so young and with a baby, no less," said the man, pulling a newspaper from his ragged bag. He separated half the sheets and offered them to Harry, who confusedly accepted them. "How long have you been homeless?"

Harry's eyes widened.

Homeless. That was a horrible way to put it. Besides, they weren't homeless, exactly; he just decided to spend the night at a restaurant instead of a motel or an inn...he didn't have money for. They surely couldn't be considered to not have a place to stay.

"We're not homeless," said Harry, forcefully.

"Sure, kid. I bet you just happen to love to stay your Wednesday nights drinking a lousy coffee in a crappy place," appeased the man.

Harry looked down at his part of newspaper. He didn't actually read a thing, it was more like an excuse to avert his eyes.

Homeless. The word made him uncomfortable. It was like admitting how royally awful he had failed.

Then again, that was exactly what happened.

"A day," relented Harry.

The man smiled and extended his hand. Harry shook it as the man answered, "Nine years. Josh Smith to your service, Smithy to everyone who's not a cop."

Smithy had one of those warm personalities, just like Hagrid, maybe with a little less gruff. Harry couldn't help it. He returned the smile and said, "Harry, and this is Teddy."

"Got kicked out?" asked Smithy, sipping his own coffee.

"No, more like ran out of money."

Smithy grunted with a nod. He seemed to consider something.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be trusting a stranger, but I know a place where you could crash the night if you need it," he said after a while.

Harry pursed his lips. Smithy was right, he shouldn't go trusting just anyone. Though, they would soon have zero pounds. And Smithy had nine years worth of experience - he looked rather good, too. What would he he win out of helping them, anyway? He knew they had no money.

"Where exactly is this place?" said Harry.

The man leaned forward and whispered, "Do you know the uptown neighbourhood to the west? Around Cressida Drive, behind some fancy houses there's an abandoned car lot. Many of them, cars, won't open without activating an alarm loud enough to wake up half the city, but after a little trial and error, I learned which ones to go for."

The both of them sat back. Sleeping inside abandoned cars wasn't so bad. Harry had imagined a dark alley or a spot on a park.

"What do you want in exchange?" questioned Harry, downing half his coffee.

"Nothing. Just don't go telling everyone about it or it'll be more crowded than the underground in no time," said Smithy, kindly. "And don't drink it like that. Take small sips every five or ten minutes, that way you last longer and they can't kick you out. Saved my life a few times."

Harry nodded.

"Why are you helping me?" he said, looking at his cup.

"Like I said, it seems like a pity for you two being here all alone," he heard Smithy say. "And if we don't help each other, who will?"

For the first time since the war, Harry was reminded that not everyone had a sinister reason for being nice, or only looked after their own skin. Regardless, he still had to keep his guard up and not reveal too much.

The next hours Smithy made most the talking, which Harry didn't mind. He explained about his life before the streets, how he didn't finish school and started an home-made original candy store with his best friend at sixteen, how he married and had three children, how his friend took charge of the accounting and he of bringing new ideas and checking the quality, how his friend sold their little business and disappeared, how he struggled trying to get a job (Harry felt him there), how his wife took their children to her parents's when he could no longer provide.

"Wow, I'm sorry," said Harry, impressed the man before him still had it in him to be amiable.

Smithy shrugged.

"Those are some of the risks we sign up for when we agree to play at life," he said, finishing his coffee. "What's your story?"

"Don't have much of a story. I've a baby, and not a roof or a job. What else is there to say?" waved off Harry.

"I somehow doubt that's all your life's been about," countered Smithy. He looked through the window and frowned. "It's getting late, 'round three o'clock. We better get going."

Smithy folded and put away the newspaper in his bag.

"How do you know? There are no clocks out there, and the Big Ben isn't visible from here."

Smithy stood up, speaking at the same time, "See the pharmacy over there? It usually turns the lights off at two in the morning. The triple x store five stores to left closes at two thirty. And there are more cabs than cars, that means the bars just closed."

"And the bars close at three?" said Harry.

"Yup, now, come on, it's quite the walk to the lot."

* * *

"This van is clear, I'll be in the blue car over there."

With that, Smithy walked off.

"Alright," said Harry.

He had never done something anywhere near to break into an abandoned car to spend the night. Though, it would have ridden him, Ron and Hermione of a lot of grief during their time on the run.

He took the door handle with his eyes closed, half expecting an alarm to go off or for the police to arrive any moment.

Click.

Harry flinched.

When nothing happened, he opened his eyes and inspected the van's inside. It wasn't dusty, like Harry thought it would. The seats seemed soft and wide.

With a last glance to their surroundings, Harry carried Teddy inside. Harry improvised some blankets with his clothes whilst he waited for Teddy's feeding time. He didn't wait for long. Teddy was uncharacteristically complying from drinking slowly to not fighting sleep.

As Harry laid on the backseat with a blue-headed Teddy breathing deeply on his chest, his last drifting thought of the day was, " _This isn't so bad."_

* * *

 **Some of you might think Bill and Ginny were OOC, but they had gone through war and lost friends and a brother. As it is, I know what is like to lose close family, and let me tell you, I got OOC along with my family, for a few months. Sorry if it bothers you.**

 **Also, the restaurant scene and Smithy were inspired by the film "The Saint of Fort Washington".**


	4. A Slice of Purpose and Fun

**Chapter 4- A Slice of Purpose.  
**

 _Edited May 2017_

Harry woke up before dawn. With eyes closed, holding onto the indifferent darkness, he listed out what needed to get done. Feed Teddy, change him, dress himself, skip breakfast and run off to find a potential job.

Then, his mind lost its fogginess.

He remembered the fast food restaurant and meeting Smithy...going to sleep in an abandoned car.

Suddenly his failure was so palpable and real he didn't notice his eyes open, allowing the dawn to steal away the careless ignorance the darkness provided. Perhaps his new found liking of darkness had to do with finding something on the outside that reflected the inside.

He felt restless, like it was urgent to get up. Weeks of routine had taught him so.

Still, he didn't move. Teddy slept pleasantly on his chest and, honestly, what would he actually accomplish getting up? He had nowhere to go, Smithy hadn't get out of his improvised motel room. There was nothing nor anyone waiting for him out there.

Funny how since the day he got Teddy there was nothing else on his mind but catching on a little sleep, and now that he had the chance, sleep wouldn't come.

That's life for you.

An hour or two later, Smithy's car door opened. That was Harry's cue to collect his stuff and get out. He hurried to change into one of the few clean t-shirts he owned, and wondered briefly when he'd be able to wash his clothes (or himself) again.

"Morning, sleepin' beauty," called Smithy as he approached the van.

Harry rolled his eyes with the corners of his mouth quirked up. There was something in that man that could lift even a rock's spirit.

"What did I miss?" said Harry stepping out of the van with Teddy in his arms.

"A beautiful break of dawn," said Smithy without missing a beat. His expression turned a bit serious then. "You ready to go?"

Harry considered asking 'where?'. He soon realised it didn't matter; he had nothing to lose at that point. He nodded.

"Onward," winked Smithy, literally marching away with an arm outstretched.

* * *

"Here we are, my men," stated Smithy.

Harry looked around.

"So, downtown?" he asked.

"You're not really seeing it," said Smithy. "It's morning tailback! It's a mine of gold!"

"...because we can move faster than them?"

"No, no, no. Think big!"

Smithy then took a glass cleaner and a spray bottle out of his bag, and proudly held them high.

"Time to work."

* * *

After the first round, both sat down to rest.

Harry played with Teddy's messy hair (charmed brown), who chewed his fist out of boredom. Smithy helped to have Harry's backpack be a makeshift "baby-holder", or whatever it was, so he'd have both arms free to work.

It was...different. To say the least. Harry had spent so much time looking for a job, he kind of forgot what an actual job could entail.

It wasn't bad, definitely. It was nice having a reason, other than Teddy, to get up in the morning. It just surprised him how it came to be.

"You need to drop the gloom," mentioned Smithy, looking at the passing cars.

"uh?"

"I just mean being charming and cheerful gets you much more tips than just spray-wipe-repeat."

"Really?" said Harry, doubtfully.

"I got 5 pounds."

"I've..."-Harry counted the coins. Less than a pound-"okay, you _may_ have a point. Perhaps."

Smithy smirked. The smug bastard.

He turned to give him a once over.

"Look, I know it's hard and maybe a bit, mmm, humbling, but right now you can't afford pride or embarrassment, and neither can I. So, first thing first, smile more. You need to look like you love your job, and you will. Guarantee it. Second, you know any good one-liner? A joke?"

Harry shook his head. It had been too long since he last had heard a joke. He wondered if George had finally reopened the shop. Hopefully he wouldn't he wouldn't let go to waste something he and Fred loved so much. Someday, when he was better off, Harry'd visit the shop and find out how George was doing.

"Alright, listen up, I'mabout to give you my best material."

* * *

Harry took a deep breath as he started wiping a woman's windscreen (maybe a secretary on the way to work). The soapy water smelled almost good; that helped.

Showtime.

"What's such a beautiful woman doing hiding behind such a dirty windscreen?" he said, going for smooth enough to be interesting but not enough to be flirty. Just like Smithy taught him.

The woman tried not to smile.

"I know what you're thinking, ma'am. That I'm just trying to get a good tip - I won't stop you if you want, though - but it's true." Harry ran to the other side of the car to finish cleaning. Louder, so the woman heard, he added, "And so everyone else can also see what a beautiful lady you are, I'm going to leave your windscreen shining."

As Harry ran back to the pilot's seat side, the woman handed him a one pound note with a smile. She was blushing.

"Thank you," he said moving to the next car, waiving the note over his head.

Smithy barked a laugh and gave him a thumb up.

Showtime, indeed.

A nice car (probably on the new side) gave him the go-ahead. A man in his mid 40's was gripping the wheel. The radio played the review of the European football cup... which England lost. Terribly. Smithy told him about it during their break.

Harry went on cleaning, thinking of something clever that wouldn't set off the already frustrated man.

"England's team's going down the drain, eh?"

"You said it, mate," said the man.

"Say, you know what's the difference between England and a tea bag?"

The man raised an eyebrow at the subject change.

"The tea bag stays in the cup longer," said Harry with the last wipe.

It took a moment, but the man chuckled.

"I liked that one." He took out a pound note. "Thanks, kid. I needed that."

The paper in his hand felt magnificent. Even if it weighted next to nothing, it meant he was actually doing something useful; he was moving forward.

Now, he understood the appeal Smithy saw in the whole thing.

"What you doin' standin' there like a loon? The lights are 'bout to change," called Smithy.

"Coming!"

* * *

Smithy, Teddy and Harry ate on the sidewalk, contently. Smithy showed them a sandwich place a few blocks away. With all the money they made in the morning, they even stopped to buy baby food and nappies.

People walked pass them, like they didn't exist. They might as well have been ghosts. And it was nice, in a way. Liberating, was the best Harry could describe it. They didn't have to pretend or keep up a certain persona. They could just eat peacefully, not even caring much about manners.

They had nothing to lose, so absolutely anything, even a small sandwich, was win, thought Harry, uncapping the jar of baby food.

"Long day, big oaf?" shouted someone from the corner.

"You bet, you prat!" answered Smithy.

A man in a ratty coat approached them grinning.

"It's been a while, Smithy! Did ya' finally went back home to the sewers?"

"You wish, Hardwick."

This Hardwick pal sat down next to Smithy like they were he best of friends. Maybe they were. Harry shrugged and began to feed Teddy. It was none of his business.

"No one's seen ya' in a while, Smi. What you been up to?"

"I knew you'd miss me, mate," - Hardwick scowled- "You know how it is, going here and there, looking for tailbacks. Same old, same old. Oh, and these fine blokes are Harry and Teddy, I've been showing them 'round our usual haunts."

"Hello, Ernie Hardwick to your service," waved Hardwick from Smithy's left.

"Hi," greeted Harry, a tad more focused on not getting baby food on his clothes.

"They start young these days, eh?" said Hardwick.

"C'est la vie,"answered Smithy.

There was a heavy silence for a while. Harry couldn't make himself care. So life's unfair, what else is new? It wasn't like he ever had it easy, why mourn something that never was?

"Me and the others have had a good few days and we're gonna celebrate at Allen's tonight, you should come, Smi," said Hardwick, regaining his smirk.

"Allen's, eh?" said Smithy. "'M not sure, maybe if we get lucky with another tailback..."

"Why didn't you say so before? The 8th's been closed for a few days now, so everyone's taking Park Avenue. There's traffic all day long!"

Smithy turned to Harry.

"Ready for another round?"

Harry nodded. "Sure."

"You comin', Hardwick?"

Hardwick shrugged in a happy-go-lucky way.

"I guess the more the merrier."

* * *

The dawn found the three agreeing on one last round. Somehow it turned into a competition for the best joke. Youth against elderly.

"Get your ugly mug away from the beautiful ladies, Ernie," said Smithy from three cars behind, "you could traumatize them!"

"Oi! I'll have ya' know women only call me ugly until they find out how much money I have!"

"Yes, then they call you ugly and poor."

Elderly won.

The traffic light changed when the first stars came out. Harry took Teddy out of the make shift carrier and into his arms. Teddy babbled something, throwing his arms in the air.

"Glad you had fun, mate," smiled Harry.

"Ready to meet the best pub in all Britain?" said Smithy.

"I don't think it's a good idea to go with Teddy and-"

"Nonsense! The good old Allen doesn't ask no questions. Let's go," said Hardwick, firmly, as though Harry's concern was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

The older men were already walking northwards. Harry still wasn't sure about taking Teddy there, but hadn't exactly paid attention on the way to Park Avenue, and now didn't know how to go back the car lot or anywhere for the matter.

He sighed and followed Smithy and Hardwick. This time, remembering the street names.

* * *

Allen's pub smelled like sweat, cigars and limes. It was like a party with people dancing and turning while holding their beers. The rest were smoking or singing off-key in between mouthfuls of some rum.

Harry had always had the image of pubs being gloomy and depressing for sad people that turned into mean drunks. He still remembered a few times uncle Vernon had came home drunk from Christmas' parties at Grunnings. They weren't pleasant for anyone at Privet Drive, but they were particularly nasty for Harry. Those were the times Harry'd be locked in his cupboard the longest, right after a session of confusing insults slurred. After Harry learn about magic, they made a lot more of sense.

Allen's, however, was cheerier than anywhere Harry had been in years. The idea made him yearn being there, celebrating like Gryffindors did after a great game. It was then, Harry realized he was smiling.

"Come'on, there's a table over there," said Smithy, patting him on the arm.

"Betty, love! Bring us our usual round, will you!" shouted Hardwick to one of the ladies dancing with a tray. Betty winked and swayed her hips.

As they sat down, Harry arranged Teddy in his shoulder so that he could see the place-so far he was fascinated by the ceiling.

"Ever been to a bar?" asked Smithy.

"Not exactly," said Harry.

"Oh boy, we'll have to make this a memorable night then, Smithy," butted in Hardwick. Harry wasn't sure why, but the man was quickly becoming quite annoying.

"Go easy on him, Ern," said Smithy, absentmindedly counting their earnings of the day. "He's probably never had alcohol and he has a baby to wake him up, hangover or no."

"You used to be fun, Smi."

"I used to be irresponsible."

"There you go, gentlemen," interrupted Betty, setting tree beers on the table. She batted her eyelashes at Hardwick. "Will you stay for the show?"

"Maybe I will, Bet, maybe I will."

As soon as Betty leaves, Smithy lifts up his jar.

"If you'll do us the honors," he told Harry.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in thought. What on Earth was he supposed to say?

The question must have been written all over his face because Hardwick commented, "Just say something you're thankful for."

Harry took his own jar to gain time.

"To Teddy, whom everyone says I saved, but the truth is he rescued me."

"To Teddy!"

Before Harry knew it, he was trying (muggle) whisky and rum. It was comforting to taste something as bitter as what he'd been feeling for a while.

Everything was a blur from then.

He wasn't drunk, not really, just tipsy enough to relax and shut down his brain-mouth filter.

"I re-really, really, really love you, you know?" he told Teddy after downing the last of his whisky. "Doesn't matter if 'Dromeda didn't want you around. Dursleys d-didn't want me 'round, either. We 'ave each 'ther, okay?"

Harry was made to reach his rum, but Smithy took it from him.

"I think you've had enough," he told him.

Harry was very confused. He was feeling so well, why should he stop?

Then, Teddy squirmed and gurgled at him. He must be really tired if he was getting cranky. Was that why Smithy wanted him to stop? Was he neglecting his Godson? Surly Smithy knew he wouldn't do that!

"I really do love him, Smithy," he said urgently, hugging Teddy to his chest. "I swear!"

"I don't doubt that, kid," assured him Smithy, "but you might make yourself sick if you drink too much."

"But I feel so good!"

"Tell me that in the morning."

Harry got silent, suddenly. There was a question he'd been dying to ask Smithy.

"Why are you so happy?"

"Whatever you mean?"

"You sleep in abandon'd cars an' carry all you own with you," tried to explain Harry. "What do you 'ave that's worth livin' for?"

Smithy seemed concerned. Harry hoped he hadn't insulted him.

"Well, I guess you just learn to see the beauty in each day and to find something to look forward to," shrugged Smithy. Now Smithy was the pensive one. "What makes you get up in the morning? 'sides Teddy, I mean."

"Nothin' really."

"What makes you happy?"

"Dunno, I guess drinking whisky."

"That's a dangerous think to like, kid," disapproved Smithy.

Harry shrugged.

"Might be the safest thing I've done," he said.

Smithy frowned.

"What you think's the purpose of you being alive?" he dared to ask.

Harry shrugged again. "'Sides taking care of Teddy, nothin' much. I'm just occupying space. Gosh, sometimes I wished I hadn't chosen to come back. I wish to go to sleep and never wake up."

"What about Teddy?"

"That's why I haven't done it," answered Harry offhandedly, as if discussing the weather, while he bounced Teddy a little. He got a few giggles for his effort, which in return, made him beam. Smithy suspected 'it' didn't mean go to sleep, not in the literal sense.

Smithy cut short those thoughts and stood up.

"Alright, time to go," he said.

Harry turn his head left and right. "Where's H'rwick?"

"Watching Betty's show."

"Oh."

"Well, get up, don't just go 'oh' and stay there!"

"Okay."

Harry had some difficulty finding equilibrium when he stood, but Smithy took him by the arm, keeping him straight.

"H'rwick's a sod," Harry meant to whisper, but all the tables around them heard.

Smithy snorted.

"That he is. Come'n let's get moving."

* * *

Something was hitting Harry in the head. Something tough. Like a hammer.

Harry groaned.

"Mornin', sleepy beauty," said Smithy, extremely loud.

"Please stop shouting."

Smithy laughed.

"I'm speakin' normally. You just have a hell of a hangover," he informed him.

Harry forced himself to sit up. On the backseat of a van? He didn't remember arriving to the car lot. He turned to ask, but he caught Smithy feeding Teddy his bottle in the front seat.

"Wha- H-How?" stammered Harry.

"I stayed the night. Figured you wouldn't hear little Ted's wails with how soon you fell asleep," said Smithy.

Harry covered his ears. He was pretty sure Smithy was being specially loud.

As it is, he guffawed when Harry fell back down on the seat, groaning.

"Come on, get up, I bet you're real thirsty."

Harry nodded miserably.

Once Harry managed to get out of the van, Smithy took them to a coffee shop for breakfast.

"Eat up," said Smithy, "the sandwich and coffee will help with the headache."

Harry sipped his coffee, glaring at the old man's amused face.

Halfway through their sandwiches, Smithy cleared his throat.

"Last night you said some things, I'm not sure you remember," he said. Harry shook his head. Everything was foggy. " Right. You mentioned it had been difficult times and you wished to not face them. In your words, 'to sleep and never wake up'. That true?"

Harry stared down at his plate, not really seeing it. He had caught himself thinking that before going to bed and sometimes waking up, but he'd never said it out loud. It made it sound awful. Smithy must think him a coward.

Harry nodded with his gaze downwards. He didn't want to see the disgust or pity in Smithy's eyes.

Smithy let out a long sigh.

"Okay, listen. I know what you're going through, I've been there. It's hard to gather energy for much anything and living just seems pointless, right?"

Harry nodded, looking up. Smithy wasn't disappointed, just sadden. Desperate, perhaps?

"I read a enough articles at the papers to know it's depression, it ain't-"

"I'm not depressed," defended Harry. "I'm not sad _all_ the time, and I'm not planning to off myself."

"Yet." Harry's eyes widened. "I know it sounds horrible, but it might come to be." Smithy sighed tiredly. "It's a slow process of hopelessness, where you begin losing your reasons to be happy and your reasons to live.

"Given your circumstances, I'm not surprised, but you have to fight it. You have to keep going, if not for you, for your kid. Because, let me tell you, being alive is not gonna be enough someday. You think he'll be glad to have an empty shell of a person for a father? Like it or not, you're his model for what a man should be. You want him to be happy?"

Harry nodded fervently. Teddy was the only thing worth something in his life.

"Then how are you gonna teach him how to be happy if you're not?"

Harry let his head fall to his hands. What was he even doing? He should have left Teddy with the Weasleys. They wouldn't have made such a mess of things.

"Hey, I know it's hard. I'm not gonna lie and say it'll be a walk on the park, but if you want something good for yer kid, you gotta start wanting it for yourself."

"How do I start?" croaked Harry.

Smithy smiled.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Hope you like it.**


End file.
